


Sea, Sand and Sun

by Iithril



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Day At The Beach, Established Relationship, FrattWeek, Giddy Frank, M/M, grumpy matt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 00:20:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29584344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iithril/pseuds/Iithril
Summary: After a mission gone wrong, Frank decides Matt needs some time out of the city. And he knows exactly where to go.
Relationships: Frank Castle/Matt Murdock
Comments: 12
Kudos: 57
Collections: Fratt Week





	Sea, Sand and Sun

**Author's Note:**

> Woohoo, it's finally here! 
> 
> Written for [Fratt Week 4](https://frattweek.tumblr.com/tagged/frattweek4), for the prompt _Water_. Thank you, dear FW admin, for allowing me to post it as part of the Week, despite the delay!
> 
> Also fills an Anonymous Scenario Prompt from the latest round of the [Daredevil and Defenders Exchange](https://daredevilexchange.tumblr.com/), _Frank forcing Matt to go on a quiet place with him for a few days after a mission gone wrong/bad_.
> 
> As always, all my gratitude goes to my awesome beta, [EachPeachPearPlum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EachPeachPearPlum), without whom my stories wouldn't be here. Thank you, Peach, you're the best.

"I don't want to leave!" Red shouted, his fists closed and his jaw tense. 

Frank could feel the anger radiating from him, and he knew he had to push nonetheless, just a little bit harder, because this anger wasn't directed at him but at Red himself.

"It's just for a few days, Matt," Foggy intervened, exchanging a look with Frank who nodded. "I can take care of the office while you're not there, and if you insist," Foggy shook his head as if he couldn't believe what he was saying, "I can mail you the files I'll be working on, that way you won't feel left behind when you come back."

Frank made a mental note to remember to take Red's computer and his earphones. Maybe he could pretend he had forgotten the computer's charging cable, huh?

Nah, Red would move Heaven and Earth to find a way to receive the files, and Frank didn't want to be bothered with that. So, computer, earphones _and_ charging cable. He'll have to find other ways to distract Red then.

Frank smirked. He could do that.

"You don't understand, Foggy! The city needs me," Red pleaded again, and his passion certainly was something, but Frank couldn't take him seriously, not with how he winced every time he tried to move his arm, not with the bluish-purple bruises covering his skin.

"City needs a fighter," Frank answered, and Red turned to him, ready to snap. Frank didn't leave him the opportunity to speak. "Right now, you're not."

Red's mouth opened and closed and it oddly reminded Frank of a fish, but maybe it was his brain trying to protect him from what he had just said. Red's ability to defend Hell's Kitchen wasn't something one could question without consequences.

Frank was expecting Red to explode, to shout and destroy things around him — he had already seen him do it, and perhaps it was better for him to let the anger out on inanimate objects rather than on other people or, worse, on Red himself. But nothing happened. Red's mouth shut in a thin, pale line, colour leaving his face. It almost seemed like he was going to pass out, and Frank readied to catch him before he could touch the ground, in case he lost consciousness.

That didn't happen either. Instead, Red nodded sharply, just once, and Frank could see how much the motion cost him. 

Foggy sighed with relief next to him.

"Come on, off you go, boys." Foggy shooed them away, and Frank voluntarily let Red walk first, limping and shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world had just fallen on him. 

Red probably didn't want Frank's help after such an open admission of his state and his immediate need for recovery, so Frank respected his boundaries, waved Foggy goodbye, then returned to his mental list of things they needed to take with them. If Red wanted to brood, so be it, but Frank fully intended on making the most of what he had planned for them. 

He got to work as soon as they got home.

Clothes, check. Toothbrush, check. Food cans, already in the truck. Red's cane, check.

"Do you have swimming trunks?" Frank asked as he browsed their dresser. Red was sulking on the couch, ostentatiously turning his back to Frank, and he grumbled a negative _hm hm._

Well, boxers would do. Frank shrugged as he added them to the pile of clothes they were bringing with them.

Towels, check. Toothpaste, almost forgotten, but check.

"Do you tan or burn?"

"The fuck do I know, Frank? You think I have time to waste lying on the beach?"

Ooh, someone definitely was angry.

"I forgot you were a night creature, my bad," Frank answered sarcastically, earning a _grumph_ from the couch.

They could always buy sunscreen once they were at the beach anyway.

Computer and earphones _and_ charging cable, check. Both their phones, check. Earplugs, check.

"Any hats in your possession?"

Frank dodged the pillow lazily thrown at him and sighed. Red could be a fucking child when he was angry. 

No hat, then. Frank hoped Red tanned and didn't burn, otherwise the sulking was going to last a lot longer than planned. They could always buy sunscreen and hats, huh? It didn't sound too ambitious to think so. It made Frank itchy to know they were missing things, but nothing that would prevent him from sleeping or enjoying the moment.

"Dress up and hop in the truck," he commanded Red, who carefully avoided looking at him, dragged his feet to the bathroom with an existential sigh and hit his toes on the door, causing much swearing. 

The door slammed violently and Frank rubbed his eyes, a headache growing in his temples and forehead. He regretted not being able to smack Red behind the head and be done with it once and for all, but he was doing it... in a more tactful way.

For now, at least.

Red emerged out of the bathroom in pants, a T-shirt he had probably borrowed from Frank and a sweater he had definitely borrowed from Frank, all in black. His socks were mismatched and a stark, colourful contrast with the rest of his outfit, but Frank kept his mouth shut, handed Red the bag of clothes, grabbed the backpack full of supplies, checked one last time he wasn't forgetting anything important, made sure his keys were in his pocket and—

"Did you turn off the water?" Red asked, taking him by surprise. 

An attempt at cooperation, perhaps? Remarkable.

"I did," Frank answered, but he went in the kitchen and checked again to please Red.

They finally headed out, Frank closing the door behind them. He checked inside their mailbox as Red waited on the sidewalk, their bags at his feet, hands shoved in the sweater's large pocket. He looked like a grumpy teenager who didn't want to go on vacation, which wasn't far from reality, and Frank snorted when Red shot him a disapproving look from afar.

They put everything in the truck, Red climbed in the passenger seat and buckled his belt, _still sulking_ even though the motion cost him a hiss and a pained expression for a split second, before he hid everything under annoyance and disinterest.

Frank started the engine, made sure he had his phone on hand — Curt had answered his text, he noticed.

" _Key under the flowerpot near the porch, water under the sink, beach at twenty minutes walking_."

"Curt, you're the best," Frank whispered as he put the truck into first gear. He smiled and waved at the neighbour peeking out their window, feeling particularly gleeful, even though he knew the hardest part was still ahead of him, Red brooding on the passenger seat a vivid reminder.

~°~

Matt was torn between anger and curiosity, and he didn't really know which one he wanted to dwell on the most.

He had failed at the mission. Miserably, even. He and Frank almost _died_ because he had let his anger get the better of him and hadn't listened to Frank ordering him to retreat. As a result, he was covered in bruises, his head spun at random times and his ears rang. His whole body hurt, actually.

Physical pain was something he was used to. What he wasn't used to was the guilt lingering in his head as he replayed the scene over and over, thinking about how close Frank had been to taking a bullet when he had run directly towards the enemy to retrieve Matt, who had been down on the ground, overwhelmed with pain. Thinking about how Frank had told him to retreat and how he had deliberately disregarded the suggestion and headed into the lion's den without a second thought.

He was angry that his foolishness had cost him so much, and had almost cost him Frank, and he also was angry to have such feelings. This was exactly why Stick had told him not to get attached — and now he felt like he could understand the old man's reasoning. And he didn't like that.

Had Frank not been there and not _cared_ about Matt enough to run towards direct fire to save his ass, he would have died. Had Matt been alone, he would have died. He felt like he owed Frank a debt, and he didn't like that either.

To cap it all, he was being forced out of the city, leaving the people of Hell's Kitchen defenceless as a direct consequence of his recklessness. At least he wouldn't hear their cries for help if he was far enough away, he thought bitterly.

He felt like a bottle of anger ready to explode at the tiniest impact. 

Yet there also was curiosity.

Frank had been adamant about not telling Matt their destination. It was the middle of the summer, so his questions about hats and sunburns weren't specific enough for Matt to make an accurate guess. Swimming trunks indicated somewhere with water, but that barely narrowed the possibilities.

And Frank was _giddy_ _._ He hummed along the radio, tapping out rhythms on the steering wheel with his fingertips, and Matt could feel his joy. He hadn't even teased Matt regarding his bad mood, and hadn't let it spoil his own good mood either. Wherever they were heading, Frank was happy to go.

Matt let his head fall against the window, feeling the chassis' vibration as the truck swallowed up the miles. He could hear the cars they passed and outpaced, and the sun warmed his skin and made him drowsy.

He fell asleep to the sound of Frank's voice, hands tucked in his sweater pocket, Frank's comforting scent surrounding him.

~°~

When he woke up, his neck was stiff as a board. He grunted when he lifted his head from the window, taking in his new environment.

The truck had stopped, and Frank wasn't there, but he was close — his heartbeat was unmistakable, and there didn't seem to be anyone else around. Not a gas stop, then — Matt couldn't smell the characteristic heady smell of a gas station.

He unbuckled his belt, opened the truck door and slid down, surprised by the softness of the soil under his feet. The scents and sounds hit him all at once and he leant back against the truck to analyse it all without feeling overwhelmed.

There were trees, possibly maritime pines given how the smell resembled this terrible shampoo Foggy had tried once, back when they were roommates. Matt could hear the needles breaking under his shoes, making the fragrance stronger. There was also a house nearby, probably a cabin, with the wood creaking and speaking to its visitors.

But, more importantly, there was salt. It felt so _thick_ to Matt, he could taste it in his mouth, smell it and feel it on his skin, and there was a constant thundering sound coming from afar, along with occasional bird cries. Seagulls? He didn't know any other birds that lived near the ocean, he realised.

Because it was the ocean, without a doubt.

"Finally awake!" Frank exclaimed as he exited the house and walked to Matt, the snap of dry needles under his boots adding to the ambient din. "How do you feel?" he asked when he arrived next to him. He didn’t wait for an answer and opened the sliding door of the truck, then began to rummage and grab bags.

"Like shit," Matt blurted, and it made Frank snort. "But you drove well, didn't wake me up once," he added softly.

"You slept for four hours, lucky boy. I hope you're ready for some work, cause we got loads to do," Frank said teasingly as he shoved a bag in Matt's hands and headed to the house again. 

Matt hesitated for a split second, unsure if he could trust his senses in such a foreign environment — the ground was covered in bumps and holes and he could sense some of the tree's branches, but not all of them. He decided to follow Frank's exact path and made it to the house safely. 

The house had a porch with three unequal steps and a creaky door with a bead curtain which made a quite tuneful melody as Matt tentatively entered.

It smelt like pine needles, _old_ ones, and as if nobody had been there for a while. Matt stayed still, again unsure of where to go, but Frank came back for him.

"I'll take your bag for now, take your time to explore the house," he said, and he had this commanding tone which left little room for arguing — Matt guessed he was focused on preparing the house. If they had driven for about five hours, then it was late in the afternoon, so it only made sense Frank wanted everything to be ready fast.

Matt chose to follow Frank's suggestion and explore the house. If they were going to spend time here, he wanted to know his surroundings.

Pushing the buzzing pain that had begun to build to a corner of his mind, Matt began to trace the outline of the room he was in. It had two windows, an old-smelling leather chair and a _lot of pine needles_ covering the floor. One of the windows wasn't closing properly, and the other one was broken.

His wanderings led him to the next room, which contained a table, two chairs and what had to be the kitchen. There also were pine needles in the sink and on the boards.

Matt stilled as he suddenly noticed Frank's presence _over_ him, the floor creaking under his steps. There was another floor, which meant there had to be stairs somewhere...

Matt followed the wind entering from the broken window and managed to find the stairs. He started to climb up, his pain almost forgotten, now almost excited to discover what was hidden up the stairs and eager to make the space his as fast as possible.

"Careful of the holes!" Frank shouted, and Matt tip-toed and tightened his grip on the rail as he climbed up. He managed to reach the top without losing his ankle to a treacherous hole, and was met by Frank extending a hand for him, a hand he gladly grabbed as he was pulled to safety.

There was a bathroom with a bathtub, predictably filled with pine needles — Matt was starting to suspect someone had intentionally scattered pine needles everywhere. Some kind of trickster house elf, perhaps? He couldn't see any other rational explanation for the tremendous amount of needles each room contained.

Frank had brought their bags of clothes into what seemed to be a bedroom, with two single beds separated by a night table. There were two windows again, thankfully not broken this time, and curtains which felt rough and old under Matt's fingertips.

"What colour are the curtains?" he asked as Frank came back from the bathroom with something in his arms — bed sheets? — and began to work his way around the first bed.

"Hm, blue. The old type, too much sun," Frank answered tersely, and Matt could tell he was focused on something else and probably tired from the drive, because there was a stiffness in his posture and his voice. Still, there was a quiet contentment, a special kind of satisfaction in his movements and his voice.

Matt wasn't in great shape to help, but he offered a hand nonetheless, and working together, they managed to prepare the two beds, start the gas cooker and water heater, and heat up a little something to eat before they headed to bed, both exhausted, albeit for different reasons. 

They didn't talk much, both focusing on whatever their hands needed to do, and Frank mentioned that they were going on a hike the next day, but refused to explain more about it and buried himself under his blanket to avoid Matt's questions. It would have been a failure on any other day, but Matt was too tired to fight for more information, not when he would find out in a matter of hours, not when his body was loudly complaining about the time he had spent sitting and leaning against the car's window.

It felt odd to simultaneously be in bed and away from Frank. He could hear him, only a few inches apart, almost enough to feel his heat, yet there was a gap between them, and Matt didn't dare close it. If Frank had kept the beds apart, maybe it was for a reason, and Matt wanted to respect Frank's boundaries.

That didn't mean he slept well, curled up alone in his bed, listening to birdsong he had never heard before, the soft sound of the wind rustling in the branches and the slightly ominous creaks and complaints of the trees and the house. He fell uprooted, and the fact that he couldn't even anchor himself with Frank's presence wasn't helping.

Morpheus caught him by surprise as he was dwelling on dark thoughts and thinking about how he had failed Frank and how bad of an idea this trip was, and his sleep was dreamless and restful, taking away his worries and leaving him refreshed as the day began anew.

~°~

Frank woke up at the crack of dawn, and for a split second blood rushed to his ears as he failed to recognise where he was and began to panic — but Red was there, sleeping right in front of him, looking peaceful, almost seraphic in the morning sun, his messy red hair framing his face, a hand curled on the blanket held to his chest. In the dim light, the bruises were almost invisible, the damage done to his body hidden by the blanket, that done to his mind concealed by his tranquil slumber.

Frank sighed at himself and pushed the thoughts away, determined to enjoy their stay. Part of him knew he needed the rest as much as Red did, even though it pained him to admit it.

He got up as quietly as possible, wincing at each of his joints popping, but Red miraculously stayed asleep, and Frank stared at him for just a little longer when he reached the door, taking in Red's dreamy features. At least Frank had brought him peace — it would have to do in case the rest of his plan didn't work.

But Frank was going to do everything he could to make his plan a success, and it started with scrambled eggs and fried bacon.

Red woke up as he was finishing putting the bacon in their plates, the small Italian coffee maker whistling as a pleasant smell of dark coffee filled the kitchen. He was dishevelled and the lines that the pillow had imprinted on his cheek were still visible, but Frank chose not to comment and let his man eat in peace. He would have all the time to tease him later.

As he had told Red the previous day, he wanted to take them somewhere — he hadn't specified where exactly, but there were few possibilities. They were going to the beach, and Red better not burn.

Frank prepared a backpack with everything they would need — he had stopped while they had been on the road during Red's nap to buy sunscreen _and_ swimming trunks, but Red didn't know about this part yet, and he wanted to keep it a surprise. The fact he hadn’t even woken up when Frank had stopped had been indicative of his exhaustion, and it helped ease Frank’s guilt when he thought about how he had deprived Hell’s Kitchen of one of its defenders, not that Red could have done shit with how messed up he was.

Frank made sure to add water bottles and, after a second’s thought, a knife to his bag. The region was devoid of people and the location of the house was known by very few — it had belonged to one of Curt’s friends before it had been gifted to Curt himself when the friend had left the country to live somewhere in Europe – but one could never be too careful.

The remoteness of the house meant that if they needed help, they would have to make do with what they had, so Frank felt safer adding a knife to the bag.

Red stayed uncharacteristically silent as Frank prepared everything, but Frank figured he was taking in their new surroundings. According to what he knew about Red, the man had almost never wandered out of the city, and any environment that wasn't urban was thus foreign to him. Frank marvelled at his capacity to adapt to new places. The man acted like a natural, at least in the house.

He revised his judgement when they walked towards the shore. Red was making an awful lot of noise walking on the pine needles and it visibly annoyed him, as he was used to being the silent, ninja-ing one. He also had difficulty anticipating the presence of branches in his path, and even though Frank tried to break as much as he could walking first, Red still swore several times when a branch slapped him in the face, taking him by surprise.

"Frank?"

"Hm?"

"How far are we going?" Red asked resignedly.

In a flash Frank saw his wife and children that one time he had taken them for a picnic out of New York, and how Frank Jr had asked the exact same question, to which Frank had answered with a big, happy smile and laughter in his voice, "Only a few more steps and we're here."

He wasn't far off; they arrived at the beach less than a minute later, the trees retreating and leaving space for rocks and pebbles and sand. It wasn't the most beautiful beach in the world, for sure — it had more pebbles than sand, the water was greyish and there probably were sea urchins hidden underwater — but as this very moment, when he saw Red pass him with his mouth open, stupor painted on his features, the sun shining on him and the wind gently moving his hair, when he walked to the water, then stilled as a wave came crashing on his feet, an incredulous giggle escaping his lips, Frank didn't want to be anywhere else in the world.

"Never been to the ocean, huh?" Frank asked as casually as he could manage as he dropped his backpack near a flat-looking rock and pulled out one of their towels — not quite a beach towel, but it would do the job well enough.

Red didn't answer immediately, standing alone against the ocean, eyes closed and head tilted back with a blissful smile, and Frank made sure to take in all the details he could, to remind him later that it was for this very reason he carried on and kept on fighting every night. He had almost lost his world to darkness and rage and _pain_ , but this vision before his eyes was a tether for his soul and a balm to his wounds.

"Never been. My dad had to stay in the city for training, and then I didn't have time or money to afford it," Red finally shrugged, turning his head ever so slightly towards Frank so that the wind wouldn't swallow his words.

"Well, get your ass here, got something for ya," Frank laughed as he began to strip — after he had checked nobody was around, but they really were alone as far as his eyes could see. Red obeyed and tentatively walked closer, careful not to trip on the pebbles.

"What is it?" he asked when Frank shoved something in his hands with a smirk.

"Swimming trunks."

"We had some?"

"Nah, bought them on the way. While you were having your beauty sleep, y'know."

Frank put his own swimming trunks on and helped Red take his clothes off, making use of the opportunity to check on his bruises, most of which had turned to a rather ugly colour somewhere between purple and green.

Then, as Red walked back to the water, now properly dressed, Frank cackled to himself. 

Red, always the trusting one, hadn't asked the most important question about those swimming trunks — what they looked like. Had he asked, he would have known there were two devil horns strategically printed on it, but he didn't, and Frank didn't intend to give him the info for free. He could have his own fun, right?

"You coming?" Red shouted, already knee deep in the water, his hands curled into fists — the water sure wasn't warm, Frank discovered when he walked to Red, and they hissed together when they walked until their lower bodies were immersed.

"How does it feel?" Frank enquired, curious about how Red was perceiving the whole experience, and also wanting to be distracted from the water lapping as his chest, each wave hitting a little higher.

"I- I can feel each temperature's stream, and the salt is a bit overwhelming, but... I like it."

Red tiptoed awkwardly over to Frank, shoulders tensed and raised in a vain attempt to shield his body from the water. He found Frank's wrist with one hand and held it tight, as if he wanted to anchor himself.

"Thank you, Frank."

The words were almost lost to the rumbling of the waves and the howls of the wind, but Frank heard them well enough, with Red's lips this close to his ear, and he raised an eyebrow as his heart jumped in his chest, elated by Red's joy.

"Red?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't thank me yet."

Frank swiftly lifted Red in a parody of bridal carry, pulling him off the water for a second. Then, with a grunt and a huge grin stretching his lips, he threw Red as high and far as he could, openly laughing at Red's surprised and strangled cry before he hit the water which splashed all around him.

"Frank!" Red yelled indignantly as he made his way back to Frank, his hair now stuck to his forehead like algae, spitting saltwater. He launched himself against Frank and managed to tackle him, taking them both underwater with a triumphant laugh.

~°~

"Hey, Frank?"

They had fought and played for a little while, then Frank had taught Matt the basics of swimming in the ocean — which turned out to be more tiring than Matt would ever have thought. But it had been tremendously fun, and all those times Matt had heard Frank's joyous laugh were a gift he hadn't expected but appreciated all the more.

Brooding was nothing but a faint memory after that. Matt knew Frank was watching him, throwing water at him or pondering about the birds, or suggesting they searched for seashells, intervening everytime Matt started to feel down again. He kept Matt distracted and forced him to focus on his surroundings and all the new sensations he was experiencing, and Matt was immensely grateful.

Once their stomachs had begun to protest rather loudly, they had made their way back to the house to eat, then back out to the sea again. Matt had slowly adjusted to the waves and the currents, revelling in the sensation of sand under his soles, the salt he could taste on Frank's lips and the birdsong he could hear from afar, a distant melody harmonising with the wind and the rumbles of the grains of sand tumbling each other endlessly.

For now, they were back to the house, after a well deserved shower and a light meal, each in their bed, slowly falling asleep after all the efforts of the day.

“Frank?” Matt asked again, unsure if his question had been heard the first time.

"Hm?" came the answer, and Matt could tell Frank was almost asleep, his chest rising and falling in an even rhythm.

"Could we... could we put the beds together?"

Frank didn't say anything, but Matt sensed him get up on his elbow, before he propelled himself out of his bed and he took the night table out of the way. Matt rolled out of his own bed and pushed it against Frank's, relieved and content and _grateful._

They fell asleep in each other's arms, Matt lulled by Frank's heartbeat, pulsing in harmony with the waves Matt could hear, and it didn't matter that there was sand everywhere around them and loads of it in Frank's hair, or that Frank's skin still tasted like salt, dry and warm, because for now, Frank was there, and it was enough.

~°~

The computer stayed untouched in its carry case until they came back home.

**Author's Note:**

> If you have a moment and enjoyed your reading, feel free to let me know your thoughts in the comments! Thank you~


End file.
